Love is for the winter
by tinuviellabelle
Summary: Post season 7: Jaime rides North and struggles with the Northmen and his feelings for Brienne, while she tries her best to keep her own feelings secret.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The cold, a terrible cold woke him up, even before the first lights of dawn. Jaime sat up slowly and looked around him. Everything was still in the dark but he knew very well he had fallen asleep in a little stable, in a corner covered with dry straw. A black leathery glove still hid his golden hand and, just as everyone Jaime had met on the road, the farmer who lived there had not recognized the Kingslayer and had accepted to offer him a shelter for the night in exchange for some silver coins. He had been freezing during the night and could hardly sleep despite his exhaustion. But, now that he was so close to reaching his destination, he was pretty happy to get up so early.

The night in this stable was the last before arriving at Winterfell... or he really hoped so. Of course, he remembered his first journey from King's Landing to the Northern capital, but both journeys had been as different from each other as were the royal city and the siege of the Stark family. This time, he was all alone, traveling in an atmosphere that was getting darker and colder as days went by and, above all, he couldn't imagine getting back alive from this journey... if indeed he meant to get back at all. Get back to the South, probably, since no Lannister could imagine spending the rest of his life in this harsh country that was the North. But if, by some miracle, he were to survive the battle against the army of the dead, he didn't intend to return to King's Landing, ever again. Cersei had lost him forever.

Cersei… Her name and her memory were enough for him to feel a deep hole within him and a lump in his throat. During his dangerous three-week journey to reach the North, the road had, at some times, seemed sure enough for him to feel safe and let his thoughts wander. And his thoughts always came back to the three same preoccupations. The first two had particularly tortured him at the beginning of his journey and had cost him many sleepless nights: Cersei and the army of the dead.

Deep inside of him, he had always known that his twin sister was a cruel and selfish woman. But the mad love he had thought he had felt for her since their adolescence had blinded him and prevented him from becoming aware of it. All those years of his life supporting her, protecting her and trying to satisfy all her desires, when she only felt contempt and disdain for everyone, starting with their little brother, Tyrion… Why he had wanted to remain by her side, he did not know anymore. Their three children, despite being illegitimate in the eyes of men and of the gods, had united them and had strengthened the sense of duty he felt towards his sister, lover and mother of his children. But they all had been taken away from them, and the last one because of Cersei herself…

The madness that had seized her, the destruction of the Great Sept of Baelor, her cruel wishes for revenge towards Ellaria Sand, Olenna Tyrell… Her hatred for Tyrion, her deceit, her desire to see the rest of mankind annihilated by the undead… Jaime's only regret was now that he had not left her earlier. But he had finally made it, after one last threat from his sister, the most inconceivable one in his eyes, and he finally felt free, as he had never felt free before. Cersei would never have any hold on him anymore. He swore it to himself. He felt it. He knew it.

But how long would it last, this newly acquired freedom? He couldn't imagine being taken prisoner when he arrived at Winterfell. The situation was far too desperate for Jon Snow and Daenerys Targaryen to renounce his experience on the battle field… at least he hoped so, and he clung firmly to this hope. But in his nightmares, he saw the undead creature jumping out of its box and its shriek was enough to let blood freeze in his veins. A whole army of wraiths, led by White Walkers… How could such a thing be even possible? Where did these creatures come from? Jaime had never really shown any interest for the myths and legends of Westeros, the White Walkers, the Children of the Forest… He had never liked to read and those stories were far too absurd for him. No Lannister, not even Tyrion who spent his time his nose buried in books, could ever have imagined that those stories were more than just legends and tales. And now, within a few weeks, he had just come face to face with a dragon and an undead creature. He had always been realistic and cynical, and his only horizon had always been Cersei, her happiness, her safety… But now that he had just opened his eyes and discovered that the world was vast and dangerous, but also beautiful, rich and mysterious, it was in a very real danger of facing its end.

Cersei's treason had been all the more painful and inconceivable. How could she want to let the rest of the living fight this enemy without taking part in this battle for… life itself? He had been so scared to see one of these creatures that the mere idea of facing thousands of them, and White Walkers besides, threatened to let him fall in a state of pure terror. But then he thought about all the weapons they had at their disposal: the Dothraki horde, the Unsullied, the dragons, the dragonglass… and Tyrion's intelligence and perspicacity, he thought sometimes with a sad smile.

If given a chance, he would bring all his support and strategic knowledge to try and defeat the enemy. He still had reasons to want to live, or at least to fight. He wanted to save the humanity, as imperfect as it was. He wanted to save the world, as unjust and cruel as it may be. He wanted to save his little brother, Tyrion.

And he wanted to save Brienne.

The closer he came to his destination, the more his thoughts went from Cersei and the White Walkers to linger on Brienne. And these thoughts, as well as the feelings they woke up in him, were quite confused. He didn't know which one of these feelings was the strongest: gratitude, the last words Brienne had spoken to him having given him the courage to leave his mad sister, the happiness to finally be able to fight by her side, the fear and dread that she might die during the fight against the army of the dead, the bitterness for his coldness and detachment towards her in the Dragonpit in front of Cersei… All these feelings fought within his soul and had accompanied him during a good part of his journey, which had been long enough to have the time to consider their meaning. Far away from King's Landing and from Cersei, without his Lannister armour and on his way to an almost certain death… In this situation, he felt almost naked and having gotten rid of all his burdens had allowed him to see deep within himself and to understand his heart's desires and the nature of his feelings.

Love. It was love he felt. He would never have thought he could feel love for someone other than his sister, but it was now impossible for him to hide further from the truth: he had fallen in love with Brienne of Tarth. How could he have avoided it? She had went through hell with him, had helped him come out of the abyss of despair in which he had plunged after the loss of his hand, even though she still despised him at the time, she had been the only one he had trusted enough to tell her the truth about the real reason he had killed the Mad King, she now trusted him and knew him better than anyone else, she believed in him and her beautiful blue eyes had recognized and woken up everything good and honourable he had within him… She had become so dear to him that his only desire was to protect her during the great war that awaited them. He knew he couldn't bear to lose her, even if it meant for him to face the White Walkers alone or jump into a pit to fight a dragon instead of a bear to save her.

However, he couldn't conceive for one second that his feelings were reciprocated. She respected him now and had probably even become attached to him, after all they had gone through together. But he knew she was intelligent and insightful enough and she had probably understood that he had been indeed his own sister's lover all those years. And worst of all – and he always felt a big lump rise in his throat whenever he thought about it – she would learn soon enough that he had tried to kill Bran Stark, as well as the horrid reasons why he had done it. He had no delusion and knew very well that a woman as honourable as his dearest Brienne could never love a man who was capable of such actions… even if he now regretted them more than anything else.

That is in this state of mind and with all these feelings, anxious and impatient to see her again but also with a very heavy heart, that he stood up to complete his journey to Winterfell.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Jaime had nothing to eat this morning, as it had often been the case during his journey, but the farmer had offered him a bowl of hot soup the evening before - a real luxury - and he knew he was solid enough to cover the remaining distance with an empty belly. He had slept with all his clothes on and had used his black cloak as a blanket, which had not prevented him from shivering all night long from the cold. He stood up, managed somehow to attach his cloak with one hand, wrapped himself in it as a shield against the cold, grimaced when he thought about the weather that awaited him outside and led his mare out of the stable. Just like Jaime, the animal didn't seem to be very keen on leaving their shelter and he had to resort to some caresses and soft words to convince it to follow him outside.

A strong wind that was bloody cold greeted them and soon let Jaime's cloak and the mare's mane flutter in the air. There was a striking contrast between the dark sky that was entirely clouded and the white ground, covered with a thick layer of immaculate snow, on which still fell some large snowflakes. The heavy sky and the swirling snow made it difficult to see anything that was far ahead. Jaime got back in the saddle and resumed his journey, progressing slowly enough to move safely, but still quickly enough so as not to freeze on the spot. He was still wearing the same clothing as when he left King's Landing and he had realized it wouldn't be warm enough as soon as he had crossed the Riverlands, where the cold had already become barely endurable. An icy and implacable wind was now constantly blowing, whipping his face, seeping into the folds of his clothes and making him shiver regularly and violently.

The brave mare continued to move forward in the direction that he hoped was the right one and he soon started to feel numb from the cold and to let himself be gently rocked by the sound of the hooves walking on the snowy and frozen ground. He tried to remember all the moments of his life that might raise a sensation of warmth in him (with the exception, perhaps, of the dragon's hot and fiery breath he had so closely felt on the battlefield) to prevent himself from thinking about this terrible and neverending cold: warm summer days at Casterly Rock, the pleasant climate of King's Landing, the hot regions of Dorne… And then another memory crossed his mind, a memory that seemed both so distant and so real, so pleasant… Harrenhal and his baths, the dark room with its suffocating atmosphere, the warm water, the steam, Brienne's presence, so close, completely naked in all her innocence, her big blue eyes observing him, the contact of her skin against his as she had taken him in her arms… A wave of warmth went through him, he felt his heart swell in his chest and despite the cold, his situation and the uncertain outcome of his journey, a smile lightened his exhausted face. This vision let hope and motivation rise in him again and he straightened himself up in his saddle to observe his surroundings, try to locate where he was and guide his mount as best as he could.

Several hours went by, or so he estimated, with the sun completely concealed and the pale light of day not allowing him to guess what time of the day it could be. At the top of a small hill, his breath was suddenly taken away, his half-opened mouth letting escape an icy cloud of steam each time he exhaled: the impressive figure of Winterfell's towers could be discerned through the fog that was covering the horizon, under a sky that was clearly dark and menacing. Jaime remained there for a moment on the hilltop to admire the view and his heart started to beat faster in his chest when he realized Brienne was there, so close, behind these very walls… He would finally be able to see her again, but the happiness he felt at this thought was soon ruined when he thought he really didn't know how he would be received upon his arrival. The visions of Bran, of Daenerys Targaryen and of this dead army they were about to face that went through his mind did nothing to calm him. He closed his eyes, breathed in the icy air around him like some sort of purification, and thought about Brienne and Tyrion to appease his mind, then spurred his mare on, leading it in the castle's direction.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Brienne entered her room and closed the door behind her. Before her stood two beds, one on each side of the room, with furs piled upon them, several candles burning on a table and on the window sill, as well as a massive wardrobe. There was also a small hearth in the room, where she quickly started to build a fire. She knew she could have called a servant to do it for her, but she was not used to it anymore, not since she had left Tarth, and it now bothered her to benefit from anyone's services. Except maybe from her dear Podrick's, whom she had grown used to and she was now really fond of him. It wouldn't be long before he came back from the Great Hall where he was finishing his dinner and probably drinking a well-deserved pint of ale, after spending the day training with her, Arya and several new recruits in the yard of Winterfell.

Once the fire was merrily crackling in the hearth, she started taking her clothes off to prepare herself for the night and enjoy some time alone in the chamber she shared with her squire. She started by taking off her heavy cloak, then unbuckled the belt that allowed her to carry her precious sword Oathkeeper around her waist and laid it very carefully at the foot of her bed. Her armour was already stored in the wardrobe and she only had to take her hauberk and her breeches off to stand there in her underclothes. A small washbasin filled with cold water had been put on the table, allowing her to wash her face and refresh herself before donning a linen shirt that reached to her knees. A terrible cold surrounded Winterfell, and probably most of the North, but thanks to the water of the hot sources flowing through the walls of the fortress, the fire in the room and the furs piled upon her bed, she didn't have to sleep with more clothes on.

Brienne went briefly to the window to gaze at the snow falling in heavy flakes. The sky was pitch-black, and everything was dark outside, but the candle on the window sill gave her some light. Her eyes were attracted to her reflect on the window pane, giving her the image of a warrior woman, massive and muscular, with features she judged herself to be rough. Her blond hair had grown slightly, and she always had to put it behind her ears during her training sessions, but it didn't really annoy her. To be honest, she actually enjoyed the way it made her look a bit more feminine. Once, her big clear blue eyes where the only thing she liked about herself. If only she could have been just a little bit more beautiful… No one could ever admire her, compliment her or love her, and certainly not the one to whom her thoughts were constantly drawn… With a heavy heart, she walked away from the window, put another log in the hearth, sat on the edge of her bed and started, just like every evening, to take care of the only thing that related her to him…

That's how Podrick found her some time later, polishing Oathkeeper, when he burst into the room without even knocking at the door.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"What's happening, Podrick?", Brienne asked.

It wasn't usual for her squire to burst into rooms like that, so shy and discreet as he was. His cheeks were red, and he was out of breath, as though he had just run through the corridors of the castle. She began to feel quite alarmed and asked him once more, on a more pressing tone:

"What is happening? Tell me, Podrick ! Is Lady Sansa…?"

Still out of breath, Podrick could not answer right away but he shook his head when she mentioned Sansa, thus making her a bit less worried.

He finally managed to speak:

"My Lady, nobody told me to tell you but I thought you would want to know… Ser Jaime… Jaime Lannister… He's here. In Winterfell. He's just arrived, alone, without his soldiers and even without his armour…"

Brienne's heart began to beat wildly in her chest. Had she heard correctly, Jaime…? Jaime Lannister was already here? Of course, she expected him to arrive anytime soon, since he was to lead the Queen's army north, but with so many men and the whole organization, the mobilization of the troops… The journey north should have taken much more time, and yet he was here, now, and alone? Brienne had absolutely no idea of what this could possibly mean. Her heart still beating very fast, her mind confused, she was completely caught off guard and was totally unable to think in a logical and sensible way.

Bent over, his eyes closed and breathing deeply, Podrick was still trying to catch his breath. She used this time to try and regain some kind of composure. She became aware that her hands were slightly shaking; it gave away her confusion and this would not do. She was still holding Oathkeeper and strengthened her grip on it before she slid it back in its sheath. Taking a couple of deep breaths to prevent her voice from shaking too, she spoke to Podrick, who immediately opened his eyes again and stared at her in a strange way:

"Podrick, can you please go and find Lady Sansa? Tell her you've told me what's happened and that I am at her disposal, should she need any assistance to handle this… situation. I'll dress myself in the meantime."

"At once, my Lady."

In a hurry, Podrick got out of the room and closed the door behind him. Refusing to let her emotions taking control and anxious to keep a cool head, should Sansa need her services after all, Brienne got quickly dressed. Her fingers were still trembling slightly when she tried to attach her hauberk, she had never been so clumsy before when fastening her swordbelt around her waist, which took her twice as long as usual, and her heart was still beating far too loud in her ears. She was really angry with herself, she wasn't supposed to be so weak and emotional. Sansa should be able to count on her and on her advice in any kind of situation, and here she was, barely able to refrain her emotions, even though she knew perfectly well that Jaime… Ser Jaime would arrive sooner or later at Winterfell.

Podrick came back before she could wonder any longer why he had come so soon and alone… He knocked this time and waited for her to tell him to enter, but she was the one to open the door, stepping out in the corridor, fully dressed, her heavy winter cloak on her shoulders and her sword hanging at her waist. She threw her squire a questioning look and he hastened to speak:

"Ser Jaime is here, alone. Lady Sansa hasn't spoken with him yet but she intends to receive him in a few moments in the Great Hall. She would like you to be there to hear out whatever he has to say, my Lady."

"Thank you, Podrick. You can come with me, if you wish."

He hurried after her and, as they were walking along the corridors of the castle to the Great Hall, she noticed how he would cast furtive glances at her, full of worry and compassion, as though he could sense how nervous and overwhelmed she was.

Jaime was here, she was about to see him again, he was there to fight alongside them against the army of the dead, and he was alone, all alone, no soldier had come with him… Was it possible that…? No, she refused to let herself believe and hope he could be free from his sister at last. It was completely insane and ridiculous to even imagine such a thing… wasn't it?

When they arrived in the Great Hall, Brienne was not surprised to see that all the Northern lords had already gathered. With Jon Snow absent, being still on his way to Winterfell with the Dragon Queen, it was towards Sansa that the Stark bannermen turned with their hopes and their trust. She probably hadn't been willing to hide this unexpected and confusing event from them. After all, they, too, had a say in the way a lone lion should be greeted in the North. Brienne's heart sank when she heard several of them speak of him as the Kingslayer, but she tried to ignore it as best as she could.

Sitting behind her table, Sansa was facing the assembly, Bran Stark sitting to her left and Arya standing to her right. Brienne positioned herself at a reasonable distance behind Sansa and Podrick joined the crowd in a corner of the hall. Sansa turned to her protector, gave her a slight smile that Brienne tried to return, then waved at the guards posted near the doors, thus giving them the signal to bring Jaime Lannister in.

To Brienne, time seemed to freeze. Her throat was dry, her palms were sweaty… She couldn't hear anything anymore: had everybody gone silent or was it her heart beating wildly in her eardrums that covered every sound? She sought some courage and tried to find Podrick's face but he was lost in the crowd. And then, he was there. Jaime was there at last, in the same room as her… Two guards were escorting him and made him stop at a distance from the Stark children.

 _What are they afraid of, that he's going to try and murder them? That's ridiculous…_

Brienne could not take her eyes off Jaime and she was overwhelmed by a wave of compassion for him: his eyes looking to the ground, obviously exhausted and frozen, his hair dishevelled and with snowflakes in his beard, the Lion of Lannister was, at that moment, only the shadow of himself. Her lips half-parted, barely breathing and her hand resting on the pommel of Oathkeeper, Brienne was completely detached from her surroundings. She could only look at Jaime, who looked so much like the knight she had met and resented, the man that had saved her, that had jumped into a bear pit to protect her… And nothing mattered to her anymore when he looked up at last and looked at her for a moment that seemed to last forever.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Completely exhausted and freezing to death, Jaime didn't even try to resist when two guards of Winterfell – who were dressed far more warmly than he was – took him by the arms and brought him to the Great Hall of the castle.

 _I came here of my own free will, why the hell would I try to run away now? Bloody Northerners…_

His eyes were staring at the ground and he knew they were there only when he heard a whole assembly of people whispering and muttering around him. "Kingslayer » and « Oathbreaker », those were the words he heard the most, but he chose not to give a damn about it, and he was far too weary to take offense from it anyway. He would probably be stuck with this fucking reputation for the rest of his days, but it didn't matter anymore… There were only two people left in the world whose opinion and esteem were important to him, and he surely wasn't ready to lock eyes with one of them as soon as he looked up to face the Stark family.

It almost took his breath away to admire her straight and proud stature, her outfit, perfectly suited to her slim figure, her blond hair that had grown since the last time he saw her (Gods, it suited her so well…), framing her face with its pale skin, her cheeks that were pink from the cold and her lips that were slightly parted in an almost sensual way… She looked gorgeous to him. That must have been another Jaime that had once found her so ugly. Her blue and piercing gaze gave him some strength and courage back. He could hardly take his eyes off her, but he finally did to stare at the Stark children before him.

He barely recognised Sansa, who had become a woman grown since the last time he saw her during Joffrey's wedding. Nobility and pride emanated from her and he couldn't help but compare her to her mother. A true Northern woman and Lady of Winterfell. The faces of the girl and of the young boy standing and sitting on each side of her were unknown to him, but he realized they could only be Arya and… Jaime's heart skipped a beat before clenching in his chest. Bran Stark… Guilt seized him, before it suddenly dawned on him that neither Jon Snow, Daenerys Targaryen nor his little brother were there, but Sansa's voice abruptly rang in the hall, preventing him from thinking any further about his whole situation. Around them, everybody had gone quiet.

"Ser Jaime Lannister, it is quite confusing to see you arrive here alone, with no army. My brother Jon sent me a raven to tell me your sister had agreed to a truce to join her forces to ours against these... creatures that are threatening to destroy us. Why have you come without your soldiers? I'll let you explain yourself, then I'll turn to the Northern lords gathered here, to my brother and my sister before deciding what to do with you until Jon and Daenerys arrive."

Jaime looked briefly at Brienne, before answering, despite his dry throat, in a husky voice at first: "Lady Sansa, I think you know my sister well enough and you won't be surprised to hear that she lied. Her promise to observe a truce was a lie. Her promise to fight alongside you against the undead was a lie. There will be no Lannister soldier coming up North. Cersei has sent Euron Greyjoy to bring the Golden Company to Westeros. She intends to use these forces to slaughter any Northerner who might have escaped the army of the dead. I didn't know about any of it, I only found out once Jon Snow and his allies had already left King's Landing. I am not totally oblivious to the danger that awaits us, and I am not mad for power, like she is, so I decided to leave her and to come and fight alongside you. The dead are coming and they're coming for us all. Fuck loyalty."

Saying those last words, Jaime locked eyes with Brienne, and an unknown but very pleasant feeling overwhelmed him when he saw her look down with a slight smile on her face. He then looked at Sansa again, who was observing him with a calm face. Speaking this much had made him very weary. It was quite chaotic around him, but he couldn't catch any of the words the Northern lords were saying. He was shaking from the cold and only wished for one thing: for all of this to be over, whatever the outcome of his trial… and of his inevitable confrontation with Bran Stark. A violent shiver seized him when he thought about it, and he closed his eyes to await the sentence of the North. He opened them again almost immediately, as the room went suddenly quiet once again. Her face still indecipherable, Sansa had raised her hand to request silence.

"Lord Glover, Lady Mormont, Lord Royce, please stand up and tell us what you think of what we have just heard."

Jaime barely paid attention to what followed, as the three lords stepped forward to give their opinion on what should be done with a Lannister. He knew the worst part was still coming… Bran Stark was about to reveal everything. He would soon be named "Child Murderer" instead of "Kingslayer". His fate was already sealed… He stared at Brienne once again, his only glimmer of hope in this dark, cold and gloomy hall. She wasn't looking at him anymore, instead listening very carefully to what the lords that had been called upon by Sansa had to say. His dear Brienne… He needed her so much right now, and as another shiver went through him, he wished she would come to him, hold him, take him in her strong arms just like she had in the baths of Harrenhal…

The lords went to sit back, the muttering started once again, and Sansa turned to her sister to let her speak. With her men's clothing, her dark hair tied back and the cold way she was staring at him, he couldn't help but think of Ned Stark when he looked at her. The perfect reincarnations of Eddard and Catelyn Stark were about to decide his fate…

 _By what right does the wolf judge the lion?_

"You are a Lannister. You are the Kingslayer. You're Cersei's brother. For all these reasons, I could never trust you. And with only one hand, you can no longer fight properly, and I don't see how you could prove useful to us. I want you to go."

Her hand on the pommel of the blade fastened at her waist and looking contemptuously at him, Arya Stark had just spoken these hateful words that raised some approving exclamations in the hall. Jaime looked down, but not before looking at Brienne and seeing the shocked expression on her face. And Bran was about to strike the decisive blow by accusing him openly in front of this whole assembly. Everything went quiet again and it seemed to him that the air had become colder, the room darker, and he felt his heart hammering in his chest. He proudly looked up to face, like a lion, the fangs of this pack of wolves.

But Bran Stark had nothing of the ferocious wolf: his face was expressionless, he looked absent-minded and when he spoke, it was in a dreamy voice:

"The fight against the Night King and the White Walkers is the only fight that matters. We need as many vaillant fighters as possible, whatever their allegiances, if we want to have a chance. Ser Jaime Lannister has come to help and even though he has come alone, we cannot afford to do without him."

Then he turned to his sister; he had nothing else to say. Sansa stared at Jaime for what seemed to him an eternity, pondering what she had just heard and what to decide about him.

 _It's so bloody cold, my mind must have gone numb… I must have heard wrong or the boy is about to speak again…_

He couldn't understand why Bran Stark would not speak of his worst crime, the most unforgivable of all, the one that had cost him his legs. It didn't make any sense.

 _He is crippled because of me, for the Gods' sake!_

Behind Sansa, Brienne stood, as stiff and immobile as a statue. Only her eyes, dancing between Sansa and him, betrayed how troubled she was. If only Sansa could have let her speak, she certainly would have come to his defense…

 _My Brienne, do you at least trust me still…?_

Their eyes locked and she encouraged him with a small smile that instantly warmed his heart and his whole body. The Gods be blessed, she hadn't given up on him, she still believed in him…

"Ser Jaime." Sansa was speaking again. "My bannermen and councillors, as my brother, consider that, in our current situation, you represent a potential support more than a threat. My sister wouldn't wish to allow you to remain here, but I agree with the majority of us all. We need men, and women, to fight if we hope to survive. The news of Cersei's betrayal is an ominous, but not surprising one. You are clearly not an outstanding swordsman anymore" (Jaime's jaw clenched when he heard those words), "but you are still an experienced military commander and we need you. I won't send you away and I place you under Lady Brienne's guard. She will make sure that you don't try to do anything stupid and that you don't get the smallest occasion to send a raven to King's Landing."

Utterly relieved but exhausted, Jaime slightly bowed his head to express his gratitude. He then tried to say a few words – he wanted to tell that he would fight until his last breath to defeat the army of the dead, that he didn't intend to send word to his sister, that she had lost him forever… -, but no sound came out of his dry throat and he suddenly collapsed on the floor. Shouting, the sound of his golden hand heating the floor, the cold feeling that overwhelmed him completely and, finally, a massive silhouette with beautiful blue eyes leaning over him. Sapphire eyes… Everything went dark.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The cold had left him when he woke up, several minutes or several days later, he couldn't tell. The warm sensation he felt was such that, for a brief moment, he imagined he had dreamt all this, he had never travelled North, we was going to be in his chamber in King's Landing once again, maybe even with Cersei sleeping by his side… With this thought, he suddenly opened his eyes and immediately knew he was indeed in Winterfell.

Exposed stone walls, a scanty furniture, no canopy bed… but a very comfortable bed nonetheless, covered with a thick layer of furs that kept him very warm. There was also a fire crackling merrily in a small hearth, casting dancing shadows upon the walls and the ceiling. And there was no Cersei. Instead of the green, cold eyes of his sister, he looked into big blue eyes that were staring at him when he turned his head. Brienne was sitting near his bed, Oathkeeper across her lap. _She must have been polishing it, waiting for me to wake up…_ Despite his exhaustion, Jaime only needed a few seconds to realize that Brienne cared for him very much after all, or she wouldn't have been there, sitting here at his bedside and taking care of the sword he had bestowed upon her and that would always be hers… He was overwhelmed by a wave of affection for her and smiled at her. She smiled shyly back, the flames of the hearth dancing in her eyes.

His eyes followed her when she stood up to slide the sword back in its sheath, placing it then against the wall near the door before coming back to sit next to him. They stared at each other for a few seconds before Jaime tried to speak, mostly to hide the confusion he felt at being near her again.

"Brienne…". His voice was so weak he wondered if she had heard him at all, and he cleared his throat before speaking again. "I wasn't expecting to see you when I wake up… Nor to wake up in such a comfortable room. A Lannister in Winterfell… A cell, some straw and a gloomy-looking guard, that would have been more appropriate, don't you think?"

His eyes had not left hers while he spoke, but Brienne stared at the ground just before she answered him.

"You are not a prisoner here, Ser Jaime. Not even a Lannister… except maybe for Arya Stark. For the others, you are an honourable man who has come to help us when we need it the most".

Their eyes locked again, and Jaime smiled feebly.

"An honourable man… Or maybe just a very stupid one, to come here when the region is about to get invaded by undead creatures."

He chuckled and, to his surprise, so did Brienne. He couldn't remember having heard her laugh before and this sound was charming to his ears, just as her slightly dishevelled blond hair and her pale skin lightened by the fire were seducing his eyes… Feeling a bit stronger, he tried to straighten himself in his bed. That's when he noticed he didn't have his golden hand anymore. Once fully straightened up against his pillow, he saw it laying on a table near a large lit candle. It felt good to be rid of this cold and heavy thing…

Brienne had surely noticed how tiring this effort had been for him, since she immediately stood up.

"You've been asleep for hours, and your journey… You must be starving."

"Thank you for worrying about me, Brienne. I'm famished, actually."

She nodded with a smile then walked to the door. Jaime closed his eyes, heard the door opening and closing faintly, and then he was alone in the room, hearing only the fire crackling in the hearth and the wind blowing outside the window. Such a quiet castle. _We are about to face probably the worst battle anyone has ever fought, and who could tell? Is that what they call the calm before the storm?_

In his mind, he saw the dead creature writhing and crawling on the ground, he heard its hideous scream… Tens of thousands of them, if Daenerys was to be believed. And these implacable generals this Jon Snow had told about… Could they be these… White Walkers? He felt both exhausted and terrified just to think about it.

Brienne was back some time later, carrying a wooden tray with food and a flagon of water. A bowl of stew, bread, cheese, some dried fruits… When she leant to put it near his bed, on the stool on which she had sat earlier, it was all Jaime could do not to put his good hand on her arm and squeeze it gently to show her his affection and his gratitude. He wasn't sure at all how she would react. With surprise, anger, disgust…?

Instead, he watched her as she sat on the edge of the other bed in the room, then thanked her with a smile before starting to eat the stew. It was cold but delicious, and Gods how pleasant it felt. He realized how weak and hungry he was and he ate everything, slowly, to get his strength back. Defeating the White Walkers and an army of dead mean on an empty belly, even he could not hope to achieve such a thing.

Brienne stared at him as he was eating, while the fire still crackled and danced in the hearth.

"I've never known a castle so quiet before. You could think it's just the two of us here."

"It's still the middle of the night. Everyone is asleep, except for the watchers on the walls. The kitchens were deserted so I only brought you what I was able to find. I'm sorry the stew is cold, but I can fetch some more if you are still hungry afterwards."

 _My dearest Brienne, what did I do to deserve you…?_

"You are still able to sleep, knowing what is coming for us? An army of dead men… Bloody hell, I could never have imagined facing one day such an enemy on the battlefield."

He put the empty bowl aside and started eating the rest.

"I remember making fun of Jon Snow as he was about to enter the Night's Watch… We are lucky the Wall is still standing to protect us, but should they find a way to cross it… What's the matter, Brienne?"

He suddenly stopped talking when he realized how alarmingly pale she had become, and the chunk of bread he was trying to swallow got stuck in his throat.

"Jaime"… Dismayed as she was, she had forgotten the formal title she so often used when she adressed him, and a strange mix of intense anxiety and tenderness overwhelmed him, just as if the barely imaginable events that were occuring around them were bringing them closer, as no other situation could have.

"Jaime… The Wall has fallen. The dead have crossed it several days ago now. "

And she told him everything she knew: the leader of the White Walkers riding an ice dragon, whose flames had managed to make part of the Wall collapse, thousands of dead men pouring from beyond the Wall in the Northern lands, dead giants among them, the White Walkers leading them on their dead horses… When she was done, they stared at each other in silence for a long time. Jaime still needed some more minutes to comprehend the meaning of what she had just told him. The Wall, fallen… An undead dragon controlled by White Walkers… If this was not the end of the world yet, then it surely felt like it.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The silence surrounding Winterfell enveloped them both. Everything was quiet like a crypt, except for the gusts of wind regularly howling alongside the castle walls and letting the snow swirl beyond the windows. At least Jaime only heard that grim noise for a while, trying to comprehend the meaning of what he had just heard. His good hand laid beside his plate, he had stopped breathing without realizing it and he was still staring at Brienne.

But instead of those two beautiful sapphires, he was seeing the dreadful undead creature before him once again… A whole army of them, growing after each and every battle… In his mind, he saw the dragons again too and he couldn't stop shivering when he tried to imagine the combination of the two. This shiver brought him suddenly back to reality. His eyes were still locked with Brienne's. He wished he could stop staring at her and look at something else so as not to embarrass her, but he could not. He could not and so he chose to drown in them rather than fall into hopelessness, for, without this gaze, without those eyes, he had nothing to live for anymore. He wasn't thinking about Cersei anymore, about their possible future child, about Tyrion or Bronn… At that moment, and possibly until the day he would die, these beautiful worried eyes were all that mattered to him. He was realizing how much he had missed them, and he didn't want to go away from them ever again. His heart squeezed in his chest when he thought that the battle against the White Walkers wouldn't happen without Brienne and Oathkeeper. He just couldn't bear to lose her, when he had just found her again, but he knew all too well that nothing and no one could prevent her from fighting to protect the Stark children.

 _She won't die, not here, not now, not like this… Not if there's still a breath of life left in me._

Brienne was still looking at him, an expression of mixed concern and determination on her face… And could there also be some tenderness in those eyes that he was so desperately trying to read?

 _I am weak and the situation around us is desperate, no wonder I'm beginning to image absurd things to try and comfort me…_

He swallowed with difficulty and finally got out of this stunned silence: "It seems we're really fucked, then. At least, I'll have the pleasure of fighting alongside you, even if… my fighting skills will make me far less useful than you…"

His voice broke somewhat when he said this, and he got angry at himself for showing so much weakness. He tried and failed to resist looking at his arm, cut and useless, lying on the bed covers. But when he looked up again, he locked eyes with her again and she was staring at him with a mix of compassion and pride written all over her face.

"You are one of our most precious assets in this war, Ser Jaime." Bloody hell, there she was again, with her "Sers". He wanted so much to have this barrier broken between us, but she didn't make the task easy for him. "You are so much more than just a sword, you are a remarkable military strategist. And your presence here proves that you have faith in our possible victory and that you were brave and honourable enough to keep your word. I am pride to fight at your side, more than I could be at the side of anyone else."

Brienne went quiet and gazed so intensely at him that he had the impression the space between them was vibrating with energy. This space between them, he longed so much to close it right now, to tenderly put his fingers on her cheek and press his lips on hers, showing her what he really felt for her…

 _But you can't, and you won't, she is not yours and will never be. And she'd probably punch you right in the face if you tried anything!_

Visibly embarrassed by her declaration, Brienne lowered her gaze and the skin of her cheeks seemed to turn slightly red in the light of the flames in the hearth. Despite him, Jaime felt a wave of longing pass through him and the love he knew he had been feeling for her for so long now seemed to take fire with these words she had just spoken. Feeling his heart beating increasingly fast, he leant slowly towards her, took her hand and squeezed it gently in his. He felt her shudder slightly under his touch, which made him smile. She was always so shy, as brave and strong as she might be. Emerald eyes and blue sapphires crossed once again, and Jaime kept smiling to hide the emotions she was stirring in him. "You are far too good to me, Lady Brienne. But I must confess, a little bit of trust is quite welcome when you are a Lannister coming to these icy Northern lands to fight and try to save the world!" He squeezed her hand a bit more, but ever gently. "And it is most welcome when it comes from such a dear friend."

Jaime really wasn't excepting Brienne's reaction: her eyes, until now so warm and soft, became veiled and strangely sad, and she withdrew her hand from his, gently but firmly. Her gaze was strangely bright, her voice stranger still and her chin trembled slightly when she spoke: "Anyone knowing you as I do would trust you. Everybody knows you are far more than only useful for the upcoming battle." She stood suddenly, looking down as if she was trying to avoid locking eyes with him when he couldn't take his eyes off her. "We should be sleeping. You are certainly exhausted, and he will need all our strength tomorrow, and every day after that. I'll take all of this back to the kitchens."

Bewildered and, indeed, very tired, Jaime only reacted when she had already reached the door. "Brienne…" She looked back when she heard him, still staring at him with this strange look on her face and with something he could have taken for melancholy. "I don't understand… How have you known the Wall had fallen? How could you have known what had happened?" She hesitated for a second before answering him: "Bran Stark told us. He has seen it all. I don't understand myself how this is possible, but he has… visions, visions from the past and the present, from things that can be happening at the other side of the world… Some say he had taken control of ravens to fly over the Wall, seeing through their eyes, when it happened. I don't know if this is true, but these powers will, at least, allow us to be prepared when… they reach Winterfell." She looked at him one last time before getting out of the room with his tray and closing the door behind her.

Exhausted and overwhelmed by all those different emotions, Jaime let his head fall on his pillow and closed his eyes. An undead creature, an ice dragon, Brienne's eyes, Bran Stark changing into a croaking raven that began to twirl around the room. All these pictures mixed in his head until he was feeling dizzy.

 _Bran Stark has got magic powers. Nonsense. And why did Brienne react like this when I only tried to show her that she is important to me?_

A sudden knock on the door made him open his eyes. Wondering why Brienne would choose to knock this time, he hardly managed to let out a weak "Come in" that he was sure the person could not have heard behind the door. But the door opened and Bran Stark was suddenly before him.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapitre 8

Several minutes of complete silence went by as the lion and the young wolf stared at each other in the middle of the night, in a room of Winterfell lit by the soft firelight. The maester who had brought Bran Stark into the room had left after placing his chair in front of Jaime's bed. Jaime felt weaker than he had ever been, but he tried nonetheless to straighten himself to keep a certain pride as well as to avoid for a moment the gaze that what piercing his soul. Jaime waited for a moment for the young man to start talking, but he kept staring at him with his big brown eyes, his hands laying on the furs that covered his lifeless legs.

Deciding to break this oppressive silence, Jaime suddenly started to talk, with a voice that was at the same time husky, hesitant and full of emotion: "I know why you're here… What I did to you… I can't forgive myself. I thought you would seize the occasion of my trial earlier to reveal my unspeakable action in front of all the Northern lords… But you remained silent, I don't…"

When Bran Stark's voice abruptly interrupted him, Jaime realized he was shaking and shivering.

"Jaime Lannister, son of Tywin Lannister, known as the Kingslayer… I, too, know why you're here. I know you, better than anyone else. Even better than Lady Brienne or your brother." His heart beating suddenly faster, Jaime was unable to react or to detach himself from Bran's piercing gaze and almost hypnotic voice.

"I know the man behind the names of Kingslayer and Oathbreaker. A man of honour, acting with dishonour only for love. A man ready to sacrifice himself for the ones he loves, a man ready to sacrifice his honour to save thousands of lives. This sense of sacrifice had led you to murder your king. And love has led you to throw me from that tower. On that day, you killed Brandon Stark…"

Jaime stared at him with a questioning look and Bran stared back at him without blinking.

"On that day, you killed Brandon Stark, his future and his dreams, but you gave life to his true destiny, to the one he was supposed to become. I owe you my visions and the future of humanity may depend from your deed."

Bran probably read doubt and suspicion on Jaime's face, for he spoke further in a very quiet voice:

"I cannot blame you for doubting my powers, but without them, I wouldn't have known that you were awake and alone in your chamber in the middle of the night."

He then went quiet, still staring at Jaime, who seized this silent moment to speak:

"I believe the young boy I threw from that tower is in fact dead. I can't see anything from him in you. "

Keeping quiet for a moment, Jaime swallowed with difficulty before continuing: "And I killed him. He died because of me and this is something I can never forgive myself for. I will never forget what I did to you and no excuse can allow me to make amends for my deed. You were right, I tried to murder you because of love…" Jaime felt his voice weakening and tears coming up, and he looked down to try and hide his emotions as much as he could. He took a deep breath and tried to go on without showing any weakness in front of the Stark boy. "If you know so many things about me and my past, you must know that my sister's love was only a lie, a ghost I was chasing in vain… I hate and despise the man who crippled you for her. I don't care if it was your destiny or…"

"It was my destiny." Bran's voice interrupted him and he slowly looked up again. "And yours is now to help us. Each and every person in this castle has a role to play to defeat the enemy, and your valyrian steel sword gives you a role more important still."

Jaime didn't know what he meant. If Jon Snow was to be believed, only fire and dragonglass allowed one to kill White Walkers and wights.

"Your sword and Lady Brienne's were meant to be reunited here, at Winterfell… My father's sword whole again… Lady Brienne and you are as important as Daenerys and her dragonfire. We all count and depend on you."

Jaime's heart started to beat incredibly fast and he had a vision of Brienne and himself, fighting side by side, swinging their twin swords and striking down hordes of wights in the freezing night… Locked in their respective armours, their bodies were repeatedly brushing against each other and seemed to move in unison, like in a sensual and mortal dance. And when they had destroyed the last wight and a White Walker that had attacked them by surprise, arising from the storm itself, they turned to each other and seemed to forget everything that surrounded them, storm and gusts of wind, snow, dragons, shrieks and smells of death, they lowered their arms and swords and walked towards each other. And suddenly, they were close to each other, so close…

Jaime startled and found himself in the warm room again, with Bran Stark in front of him, still staring at him in silence. He placed his hand in front of his eyes and tried to regain his breath, for what he had just seen had seemed so tangible, so real… Had Bran Stark just shared a vision of his near future with him? He had felt everything so intensely, the fear, the cold, the exhilaration to fight alongside Brienne, the joy of seeing her survive the battle… He was sure of it now: the young man's powers were real. After all, why would it be harder to believe than the existence of dragons and White Walkers?

A short instant elapsed, during which the young wolf gave him a tiny, enigmatic smile, then there was a knock on the door and the maester walked in to take Bran away. Jaime's eyes followed him until he reached the door and looked back at him one last time.

"You are your swords and you belong together." The maester closed the door behind them and Jaime was alone again.


	9. Chapter 9

Leaning against a wall in one of Winterfell's corridors, Brienne was standing there, slightly trembling despite her warm outfit, in this freezing part of the castle. She had just brought Jaime's food tray back to the kitchens and, since she was lost in her thoughts, she had almost scattered its contents onto the ground when she had nearly bumped into one of the guards, probably on his way to the battlements. After leaving the kitchens, she had felt the need to stay alone for a while before going back to her chamber… or rather now, to their chamber. The situation seemed so absurd and surreal to her, like a bad joke or a stupid dream from which she would surely wake up.

But I'm not dreaming. Jaime Lannister is here, and he is sharing my room. An army of dead people is marching on us, this may be the end of the world, and Jaime and I are in the same room…

This thought might have made her laugh, if she hadn't been so upset. For the first time in her whole life, Brienne was completely overwhelmed by the turn of events and her emotions. Leaning against this cold wall, as if she feared she could collapse anytime, she felt almost nothing, except for her quick heartbeat and the shivers of her whole body. Seeing Jaime again under these circumstances was both wonderful and painful. During these long months of separation, after she had left King's Landing on her quest to find Sansa, she couldn't help but think about him, while knowing it was very unlikely that they would meet again. Seeing him again in the Riverlands and going away from him once more had been heartbreaking for her. But she had known then that her heart would be forever his when she had seen him staring and waving at her from the battlements of the castle.

The journey back to Winterfell had been utterly painful and a real trial of her self-control: her woman's heart was broken but her warrior's soul had to take over and she had been forced to put on a brave face in front of Podrick during the day and to conceal her tears and nightmares from him at night. She had been more than relieved to find her place again at the side of Sansa Stark and to be able to play her role as a protector and, sometimes, as an advisor. Honouring her oath was the only thing that should matter in her life, and she had devoted herself to her mission even more, in an unsuccessful attempt to keep Jaime away from her mind. It had been a real blessing to witness the arrival of Bran and Arya at Winterfell: seeing the Stark children reunited once more had been a soothing balm for her heart. Keeping them safe, preparing for the winter, training with Podrick, Arya and other inhabitants of the castle who needed to be prepared for the fights to come… all this had kept her busy during the day, and, at night, she was so tired, and her sleep had become so deep that she couldn't remember her dreams anymore. Which was a good thing, since she usually dreamt only of him and inevitably woke up with a heavy heart.

And then Sansa had entrusted her with the worst mission possible: she was to go to King's Landing in her name. "Ser Jaime will be there. You said he treated you honourably before." Though spoken in goodwill, those words had felt like a dagger in her chest. She didn't feel up to the task, she didn't feel ready at all. She wasn't ready to be in his presence once again, when she had resigned herself, after so many months, to never see him again. She wasn't ready to encounter him at the side of his monstrous sister. She wasn't ready to lock eyes with him and to gaze into those eyes that were both piercing and full of something she couldn't quite define but that could sometimes give her the illusion of something deeper than mere respect.

But she had had no choice and had been once again on her way south, with Podrick at her side, determined to do her best to represent Sansa and to keep her emotions in control so as not to jeopardize her mission. At their arrival in the capital, her heart was both squeezed in her chest and beating fast and almost painfully against her ribs. After only one night to rest in a modest inn, she had made her way to the great assembly to which she had to be present. She still wondered how she could have resisted to all the emotions that had overwhelmed her that day: her hidden joy to see Jaime again, her bitterness at the sight of his closeness with his sister, her astonishment when Daenerys and her dragons had arrived, her fear and dismay when the wight had sprung out of its box and, last but not least, her cruel disappointment when she had spoken with him and her sorrow when she had felt the distance that the circumstances had put between them once again.

And then, Cersei had given her word: the Crown would join the fight in the North. Brienne should have been happy about this alliance, because it meant she would finally get to fight side by side with Jaime, but she couldn't. Jaime hadn't looked at her again and she had left King's Landing knowing something for certain: he would always belong to his sister and he would always follow her faithfully. The closeness she had felt between them for such a long time had disappeared, just as if it had only been a dream, and she would forever remain a prisoner of this unrequited love.

But now… Everything was different, but nothing had changed. Nothing had changed, for he would never have the same feelings for her. Nothing had changed, for he had chosen the path of honour once again and honoured his pledge. But everything was different: the shadow of his sister wasn't following him anymore. He had finally left her to fight with them, for the living… by her side.

Brienne went back to her chamber several moments later, and her heart was full of pride and love. This quiet moment of solitude, far too rare in these days to her taste, had calmed and soothed her. Jaime would never love her like she loved him, so be it. But he was there. He would be there, at her side, to face the end of the world. And that should be more than enough for her.

Stopping in front of the window facing her chamber's door, Brienne noticed that the blizzard had stopped but the night was still as dark as a kraken's ink. There were still some hours left before the castle would wake up and they had to get at least some rest. Facing the door, she took a deep breath and entered the room as quietly as she could, immediately locking eyes with Jaime Lannister, the man she loved.


	10. Chapter 10

Still lost in his thoughts after his conversation with Bran, Jaime started at the sound of the door opening. Behind it appeared the most beautiful eyes he would ever see in his whole life, he knew that now. Brienne was staring at him with an expression he found slightly changed, softer and more serene than ever before, and his heart clenched in his chest at the sight when he thought about the vision he had just had, both of them so close, in the middle of the battle, and about to finally surrender to their feelings, in the heart of the storm. But his own feelings weren't shared, he knew that, and he swallowed with difficulty, his eyes still locked with Brienne's, whose cheeks seemed to get slightly red in the firelight. She finally looked away and closed the door softly, then walked to her bed, which was very near his.

It was finally Jaime's turn to look away, as he didn't want to embarrass her by staring at her too much. He suddenly thought about Bran once more. The boy had forgiven him… but Brienne knew nothing about it. Apart from his little brother, she was the only person in the whole world to know his reasons for killing the king he had sworn to protect, and this had made him honourable in her eyes. But what would she say if she learned that he had deliberately tried to kill one of the Stark children? And that he had done it to keep the secret of his forbidden love for his sister?

Looking at Brienne again, Jaime suddenly realized something: she had to know. He wanted to be absolutely honest with her, and he didn't want to hide anything from her. Even if it weakened the unique bond they shared. Jaime threw back the furs that were covering him and sat in his bed, his eyes never leaving Brienne for a second. Her back was at him and she was starting to get undressed for the night, taking off her heavy cloak first and placing it at the foot of her bed, in a delicate gesture that surprised Jaime and made his heart clench in a strange way, both bitter and sweet, pleasant and painful at the same time. Her deft hands then untied the fastenings of her hauberk before she took it off as well, and Jaime's breath caught in his throat when he caught a glimpse of the naked skin of her muscular but still feminine arms, of her slender body, of the discrete curves he could discern under her long linen shirt, in the soft light of the fire, now that she had taken off her boots and breeches.

A small basin of water placed near her bed allowed her to refresh herself, before she sat at the edge of her bed and finally looked at him. Jaime had not stopped staring at her and was now painfully aware of his desire and longing for her, a desire he had been feeling for her ever since the baths of Harrenhal, if he was honest to himself. At this very moment, he felt the urge to get up and go to her, to take her in his arms, to kiss her, to melt into her, to make her feel what no other man had made her feel before…

"Ser Jaime… are you all right?"

Brienne's worried voice brought him back to reality, and he swallowed once more with difficulty, while losing himself in her beautiful blue eyes. His heart was beating faster than it should have been and his body still showed signs of the desire that had overwhelmed his senses. Taking his time to breathe deeply before replying, he decided that the time had come to reveal his last secret to her.

"Bran Stark has come to see me… while you were gone."

A confused expression appeared on Brienne's face. "In the middle of the night? What could he have…"

Jaime interrupted her, eager to be done with it and to tell her everything, even if it should cost him her respect and her friendship.

"He wanted to talk to me. He wanted to talk about what I did to him all those years ago and that made him a cripple."

He then stopped, and his heart became utterly heavy in his chest when he saw the shock and incomprehension taking hold of Brienne's features. Her mouth half-opened, she was staring at him with horror in her eyes. There was silence between them for long minutes that seemed to last ages for Jaime and he couldn't bear to stare into her eyes any longer. His heart beating furiously with the confession he had just made to her, he looked down and tried to speak again to explain himself.

 _I can't lose her, I just can't… Not now._

"I won't try no deny it, I had hoped that the fall would kill him. But I had no choice. He… he had seen us, Cersei… and I."

He tried to ignore the pain he was feeling by merely pronouncing her name. He had no right to be weak. He had to go all the way and to confess everything to her. Her, to whom he had given his heart, even if she didn't know it.

"Cersei was the mother of my children. And Robert would have killed all four of them if Bran had told someone. I don't know what he would have done with me, and it doesn't matter. But he would have executed my sister and our children, and I would have killed myself if he had been so cruel as to let me alive. I sacrificed Bran Stark to protect my family."

He was still looking down, staring at his stump, and Brienne was still silent. His heart tightening in his chest, he chose to go on. "All these reasons are no apologies for what I did. It is the worst crime I ever committed in my whole life, and I will regret it until my last breath, be it tomorrow or in fifty years from now. Bran Stark isn't resentful towards me and he pretends he owes me his visions, but…"

His voice broke and he stopped talking. Unable to ignore Brienne's reaction any longer and feeling as though his heart was about to jump out of his chest from beating so fast, he looked up again and immediately locked eyes with her. The urge to take her in his arms became even stronger. She tried to hide her face by staring away from him and looking at the fire, but he had time to notice how her chin was trembling and how her eyes filled with unshed tears.

Then she looked at her hands that were resting, palms up, on her lap, and she finally spoke, with a voice so full of emotion that it was pure torture for him: "I didn't know any of it. But I know it must be terrible for you to carry such a burden on your conscience. I can't pretend I'm not horrified, but… I know you. I know you're not that man anymore. If Bran Stark was kind enough to forgive you, then I can too."

Brienne's stare was so intense when she looked at him that it took his breath away: "You have shown trust in me and... I trust you too, Ser Jaime."

There was a long moment of silence, apart from the sound of the fire crackling in the hearth. And in this room in Winterfell, surrounded by snow, ice and death, two oblivious hearts were beating as one.

With a strangely half choked voice and a little smile he wished both tender and casual, Jaime then spoke: "I don't deserve you, Brienne."

A veil of sadness passed briefly on her face.

"I think we… we should sleep now. You must be exhausted and we both need rest."

Jaime nodded and lied down on his pillow after discretely looking at Brienne doing so.

"Good night, Ser Jaime." Her voice, softer than ever, sent an ache through his heart.

"Good night, Brienne."

He stayed awake a long time, eyes wide open, staring at the shadows cast above him by the fire, and then sleep took him.


	11. Chapter 11

The weather became colder each day that passed, if this was even possible, and the days became shorter. The endless nights were pitch-black. The moon and stars were veiled by the thick layer of clouds that was responsible for the almost uninterrupted snowfalls. And their days lasted only a few hours, during which the pale sunlight hardly managed to pierce the clouds.

During the days that followed, Jaime spent his time helping to prepare for the Great War, shivering despite his thick layers of clothing, and trying to ignore the whispers behind his back, the barely concealed scornful stares and his agonizing feelings for Brienne. Continuing to spend his time with her and to share her room didn't make things easy for him at all, but Sansa had instructed her to keep an eye on him at all times. During the day, or rather during their waking periods, her squire Podrick was almost always with them, and Jaime used his presence to discuss, jest around and try to appear as casual as possible. And when they went to bed, he was often so exhausted and numb from the cold that he fell asleep as soon as his head touched his pillow. But despite this feigned casualty, the grim atmosphere of the castle and the gloom of its inhabitants, the cold and the seemingly neverending darkness, the dread filling the air before the impending fight against legendary and nearly invincible creatures and their army of dead men, he savoured each and every moment he had the chance to spend in Brienne's company. To prepare for the end of the world at her side let a fire burn within him that warmed him from the inside, more than any hearth or additional piece of fur ever could. His blood boiled in his veins when they trained together in the yard of Winterfell. His heart began to race whenever they brushed against each other when they helped in the stables, carried boxes full of dragonglass, patrolled on the battlements or simply walked in the corridors of the castle. And rage consumed him whenever he heard the disdainful mockeries some Northern men or others made about her when they were taking their meals in the Great Hall. He couldn't bear to see the look on her face from hearing these remarks and he hated to see her hurry to empty her plate to leave the hall as fast as possible.

"Don't bother with them, Ser Jaime. You don't need to get into more trouble on my account, in your situation. I am used to such remarks." That's what she had told him one night, when he had got up from his seat, decided to make them all shut up. He had slowly sat up again, nodded in agreement while still staring at the soldiers, and he, Podrick, Brienne had quickly finished their meal in silence. But he hadn't stopped observing her, as discreetly as he could: sadness was clearly visible on her face and he couldn't help but feel a painful twinge of sorrow at this sight, as well as an irrepressible desire to use his golden hand to break some jaws.

They arrived several days later. The snow had just stopped falling, and Jaime et Brienne were using the temporary lull and the absence of fog thanks to the wind to train some young Northern people with sword fighting in the main yard of Winterfell. The sound of a horn resounded all over the castle and everyone stood transfixed on the spot when that sound was followed by a monstrous roar, filling the air and the skies. Jaime's heart skipped a beat, hearing that terrifying sound again. He would never be able to forget it after this fateful day on the battlefield, on his way back from Highgarden. His eyes immediately turned to Brienne and they nodded to each other: she, too, had understood that Daenerys, her army and her dragons had arrived at Winterfell.

While each and every occupant of the castle was rushing to the gates and to the battlements to witness the arrival of these long-awaited reinforcements and to see the dragons with their own eyes, Brienne and Jaime stood behind, taking their time to sheath their respective swords and stare silently at each other for some time, a moment that Jaime wished he would never have to interrupt. But Brienne had to stand at Sansa's side when the Lady of Winterfell greeted the Mother of Dragons and they ended up following the crowd, walking side by side, still in silence, not needing to express with words what they were feeling at that exact moment. Jaime didn't need to, at least: Brienne's gaze, both determined and full of compassion, was enough for him to know she would stand at his side when he would have to face Daenerys. After all, he had stabbed her father in the back, and she probably wouldn't have forgotten it… although, in Jaime's mind, these events seemed to have occurred ages ago, almost in another lifetime.

He barely heard the cries of the crowd and the sound of the wings cutting through the air, or the loud noise the dragons made while landing before the gates of the castle. He only heard the sound of their valyrian steel swords, clanking in the scabbards at their side as they were walking.

 _Oathkeeper and…Widow's Wail… I'll bloody have to think about another name…_

He only heard the crunch of the footsteps in the snow, rhythmically accompanying his. The cold winds of the North could blow, the merciless dragons and their fierce mother could wait for him, beyond those gates. Brienne was at his side, and there was no other place in the world he could ever wish to be.


	12. Chapter 12

Podrick met them as they were making their way through the crowd. His cheeks were red from the cold but he didn't seem to suffer much from it. He only wore at night the heavy cloak trimmed with fur a shy but pretty servant of the castle had given him upon their arrival. Brienne still wondered about it: after all, he was much more used to the warm climate of the capital. Her squire was decidedly full of surprises and far tougher than she would have expected at first.

"My Lady, your presence is required…" She quickly interrupted him while still walking forward through the crowd, Jaime following them. "I know Podrick. I think you should stay back, for once."

He nodded before making his way towards the battlements, probably to get a better view of this spectacular arrival. Brienne continued walking, not daring to look back towards Jaime, for fear her face would betray the anxiety that was building inside her. Daenerys Targaryen would soon lay eyes on the man responsible for her father's death and Brienne had no way of anticipating her reaction. She had barely enough time to think about what she could say to come to his defence and vouch for him, when the people around them gasped as a deafening sound reverberated in the air just above their heads. Both dragons had just taken flight again, and Brienne stared at them for a short instant, swirling in the air above Winterfell.

To her great surprise, only a small crowd had gathered beyond the gates of the castle, at the edge of the snowy plain. She was expecting to face the Unsullied troops and the Dothraki horde, but she remembered suddenly that the armies of Daenerys were travelling by land, whereas the silver queen and Jon Snow had taken a boat from Dragonstone to White Harbour. Jaime's situation was really upsetting her and making a mess of her mind…

Taking a deep breath, she instinctively put her hand on Oathkeeper's hilt and moved towards the small group of Winterfell guards, in the middle of which she could discern Sansa's fiery hair. She then slightly shivered when she felt a hand lightly grasping her wrist. She turned around and Jaime, oblivious to the feelings he was stirring inside her and to the fear she felt for him at that moment, told her in a low voice: "You should go on alone, Brienne. I feel I had better stay behind a little while." She couldn't help but notice how handsome he looked, with strands of his long silvery-golden hair flying in the wind and fluttering in front of his piercing green eyes. A small bitter smile appeared on his face: "I am in no hurry to get burned alive." Unable to speak without revealing her inner turmoil, Brienne swallowed with difficulty and nodded in silence, casting him one last glance before quickly walking away.

Ignoring her heart that was racing, she arrived at Sansa's side just in time. Jon Snow was already walking towards his sister, and, while he took her in his arms, Brienne observed the newcomers. Standing slightly behind to give the Starks time for their reunion, Daenerys Targaryen was patiently waiting, her hands clasped in front of her, her gaze proud and unwavering. Jorah Mormont, whom Brienne had briefly met in King's Landing, was accompanying her. All clad in black clothes, he truly looked like a Northerner. Brienne couldn't help admiring the young woman's strength of character and determination. After all the daughter of the Mad King, she had just set foot on a territory forever scarred by her father's actions, but neither her situation, nor the cold seemed to unsettle her. Her beautiful white winter coat lined with red silk underlined even more her regal appearance and her ability to adapt to every circumstances.

But Brienne remained wary. And her suspicions towards the Mother of Dragons was confirmed by Sansa's attitude when both young women finally faced each other.

"Sansa, this is Daenerys Targaryen, Mother of Dragons and rightful queen of the Seven Kingdoms. She has come with all her forces to help us defeat our… common ennemy. Daenerys, this is my sister and Lady of Winterfell in my absence, Sansa Stark."

Jon Snow went quiet and a short silence settled around them, during which Daenerys and Sansa stared at each other. Then Sansa began to speak, and Brienne couldn't help but notice the tone, both cold and polite, with which she addressed Daenerys Targaryen: "We were waiting for you. My brother had sent us a raven to inform us of your arrival. Surely, your presence and your help will be most valuable in this war. Winterfell is yours, Your Grace."

Jon Snow smiled to his sister, visibly satisfied with this first encounter, but Daenerys' smile seemed quite forced and didn't reach her eyes. Brienne could feel all the tension emanating from this first encounter, and she understood Sansa all too well. Despite their dire situation and the absolute necessity to have the support of Daenerys, of her army and her dragons, how else could she have greeted the descendant of a whole dynasty of conquerors in Winterfell, the very own daughter of a king consumed by madness and by his passion for wildfire, the very man responsible for the worst atrocities towards her family?

Jorah Mormont stepped forward, and, while the presentations were going on, Brienne's anxiety was building inside her as minutes passed, her heart beating fast and squeezing painfully in her chest. The moment she dreaded so much was coming. She knew that Daenerys would soon face Jaime, and what little she had seen of the young Targaryen gave her the terrible impression that it would be extremely hard to convince her of the necessity of Jaime's presence and that she would be unforgiving. Brienne's only hope was Tyrion, who would surely come to his brother's defence. But although she kept looking around her as discreetly as possible, she couldn't see him anywhere and she began to think he might not have followed them. Had he really stayed behind, at Dragonstone, to keep supervising the shipping of the boxes of dragonglass that kept arriving at Winterfell? She tried hard not to panic, and there was no time for it anyway. Sansa began to speak again, this time addressing her brother, even if the news affected all of them: Cersei Lannister had betrayed them and would send no reinforcements in prevision of the battles to come. Jon Snow's expression became stern, and Daenerys' features hardened. The quick glance they exchanged was perfectly clear: far from being a surprise, this news was no less dramatic.

After a short moment needed to digest this information fully, Jon pull himself together: "How do you know…" Sansa interrupted him, going straight to the point: "Jaime Lannister is here." Brienne instinctively squeezed the hilt of her sword tighter, seeing Daenerys' eyes become almost ferocious, while incomprehension took hold of Jon's face. "Why would he be here if Cersei…"

"He arrived almost a fortnight ago. Completely alone, bearing the news of his sister's treachery and swearing to help us in the war to come. We heard what he had to say, discussed it among us, and we have accepted his help. I think I made the right decision by pondering everything like you would have. We can't afford to refuse the help of anyone in these dark hours. You know that better that anyone else." Sansa then stared at Brienne, who could not have been more grateful to her in that instant. "Lady Brienne is responsible for keeping an eye on him at all times, although I know she trusts him." They exchanged a smile, and Jon was looking with pride at his sister, obviously satisfied with her way of dealing with these matters, but Daenerys suddenly spoke, staring straight into Sansa's eyes: "You mean to say… your brother has sworn me his allegiance, while you greeted the Kingslayer here, in your very home, the man who didn't hesitate to betray my father by shoving his sword into his back?"

Brienne's heart was beating so hard and so fast that she almost expected it to spurt out of her chest. Her eyes moved rapidly, looking for Jaime among the crowd gathered at the foot of the battlements, but she saw him nowhere. Daenerys' eyes looked as though they were sending daggers at Sansa, but the young she-wolf didn't let herself get intimidated and replied to her in a polite but very firm tone, before Jon had even the time to intervene: "I didn't make this decision by myself, but with all the Northern lords currently staying in Winterfell. Our absolute priority is to insure the survival of everyone during this winter and during the battle against the creatures that come with it. Ser Jaime is a knight, a former kingsguard and a military strategist, his presence can make all the difference. And he was expected, even if we would have rather seen him arrive at the head of his army."

"I would have hoped to arrive with an army, too."

All heads turned towards the man who had just made his way through the crowd and the group of guards to join them. The snow had slightly begun to fall again, and a few snowflakes were scattered in the beard and the long golden-grey hair of Jaime Lannister. Her mouth dry, her throat painfully tightened, Brienne couldn't take her eyes off him. She was almost angry with herself for having such thoughts at this inappropriate moment, but his presence and the look of him were enough to take her breath away. Their eyes locked and he gave her a little smile before turning to Jon and Daenerys. "It seems to me you were just talking about me."


	13. Chapter 13

Sitting on the edge of his bed, Jaime was sharpening his sword with slow movements. The sound of the whetstone sliding along the valyrian steel was even more soothing to him than the crackling of the fire in the hearth. Every evening, he took care of his sword while waiting for Brienne to come back from her watch on the battlements. He had found out he wasn't able to sleep anymore when she was not in the room. Besides its sharpening, he had finally found a name for the blade he would swing against the army of the dead. Oathkeeper's twin was now called Winter's End. He had never had much imagination and he was secretly proud of this name. This name also filled him with hope. He wanted to believe in the possibility of their victory, whether he was still alive or not when spring returned.

He tried not to think about what would come next, should he survive, for winter's army would then be replaced by another enemy. He still found it hard to believe that Cersei was now his enemy too, but there was no way back to her, no future for them anymore. His sister had become a monster… or had she been a monster all along? If so, he had been too blind to even see it, for all those years… But as soon as he started to think about her again and to feel his throat tightening, he composed himself again and focused on what mattered most to him now.

The movement of his hand along the blade started to slow down and he ended up staring at nothing in particular in the room. He had never been afraid of death, of his own death, and should he fall before the White Walkers, he refused to go without first making sure that Brienne and Tyrion would be safe. They were the only ones who mattered to him now, the only two people in the world who really knew him and believed in him. Should he die during this fight, it would be by defending them, by protecting them from these dreadful creatures.

 _The things I do for love…_

He then thought back to his confrontation with Daenerys Targaryen, a few days earlier, before the gates of Winterfell. Everything was white, the air was freezing cold, and the snow was falling heavily all around them. But all the rage and wrath he had seen in her eyes had given him the terrible impression he was facing the Mad King once again.

 _If she had been able to set me on fire with a single stare, she certainly would have done so._

The air had seemed to crackle all around her, loaded with all the anger she felt at standing before her father's murderer. She hadn't listened to Sansa and Jon, who had tried to calm her, reminding her that his arrival was expected after all, and that the fact that he was here proved he was willing to help them fight the White Walkers.

"He is here without his army, the army he had promised. His sister has betrayed us all… How can you trust him?"

Daenerys had spoken these words with a tone full of scorn, all the while staring at him with disgust, and Jaime's blood had started to boil in his veins. Feeling the lion awaken inside him, he had been about to point out that the Starks had decided to swear allegiance to her when her own father had cruelly murdered members of their family, when he had catched, from the corner of his eye, a quick movement, like a blue lightning standing out in this grey and white background, and Brienne, his Brienne, had come to stand at his side, facing directly Daenerys Targaryen.

"Your Grace, allow me to defend Ser Jaime Lannister and to plead on his behalf. My name is Brienne of Tarth. I am here to protect Sansa and Arya Stark, in the name of my oath towards their mother, Lady Catelyn."

She had gone quiet for a short instant and had looked at Sansa who had nodded to give her permission to continue. Everyone was staring at Brienne and Daenerys' gaze was both wary and questioning. But nothing had seemed able to prevent her from continuing, with a voice full of determination.

"Ser Jaime is the reason Lady Sansa is safe, at home and surrounded by her family. He is the reason I was able to leave King's Landing to find and protect her, offering me a sword, an armour and a horse to do so. He was equally bound to this oath to Catelyn Stark. Lady Catelyn had asked me to escort Ser Jaime back to King's Landing in the hope of getting her daughters back. I was careful but not enough, and we were captured by Bolton men. Ser Jaime had every reason to abandon me to my fate, but… he saved me, twice."

Brienne had then looked at him, very quickly. He had stared back at her, unable to speak, his throat tightening and his heart swelling with gratitude. Her cheeks had taken a lovely shade of pink, but she had carried one nonetheless, visibly confused to explain, in front of this crowd, everything that had happened to them, all those memories they had shared and kept to themselves all these years.

"He saved me twice. And it cost him his hand. Later, I also understood it was not his first heroic deed, by far. Just as he lost his hand to help me, he also chose to sacrifice his honor to save thousands of lives, by killing your father, King Aerys, who wanted to use wildfire on King's Landing. And he is here, now, even though his sister betrayed us, to honour his pledge and help us. Ser Jaime is one of the most honourable knights of the Seven Kingdoms. I trust him and I am ready to vouch for him."

He didn't remember much of what happened next. All he remembered was Brienne's blue and piercing eyes as she was facing Daenerys. All he remembered was this sweet but painful mixture of surprise, gratitude and tenderness that had overpowered him and hadn't really left him since. He also remembered Tyrion's arrival, a welcome sight that had allowed him to focus his attention on something else, for it had been incredibly hard for him to resist the urge to take Brienne in his arms at this point. His little brother had come to Brienne's help and supported everything she had said (he had also smiled at them both, in a weird fashion Jaime was unable, or maybe scared to interpret). Daenerys had finally become serene again, as serene as she could ever be in his presence, and had accepted to give him a chance to prove his good intentions.

Jaime suddenly came back to the present moment. The fire was still crackling, letting shadows dance on the ceiling. The wind was blowing again, howling behind the wooden shutters, announcing the enemy's approach and the chaos that would soon engulf them all. With slow, methodical gestures, he put down his whetstone and admired the reflections of Winter's End's steel in the firelight, before placing the sword in its sheath again.

When Brienne came back to him at last, he was standing at the window. He had opened the shutters and was staring at the falling flakes of snow, dancing in the air at each gust of wind. He turned back to her as soon as he heard the door open.

"Ser Jaime, you're still not asleep…"

"It seems I am not able to sleep anymore when I'm alone in this room, Lady Brienne."

He smiled at her and the smile she gave him back was the shy little smile he adored so much now. This smile did indescribable things to him, even though she always looked down and he wasn't able to see her beautiful eyes at the same time as the sweet curl of her lips.

She closed the door and explained him briefly that everything was quiet outside, taking off her heavy cloak while doing so. Jaime listened to her in silence and nodded, at the same time thanking the gods, even if he didn't know which ones, for granting him another moment of rest, another peaceful night at the side of the woman he loved.

They prepared for the night in silence, taking off their heavy layers of leather and furs. Jaime sighed with relief when he took off his golden hand and suddenly wondered why he kept wearing it at all. Finally deciding to get rid of this awful and uncomfortable reminder of his life with Cersei, he didn't put it on the table as he was used to, placing it instead under his bed, out of his sight and, hopefully, out of his mind. He suddenly felt more at peace and even more free than he had felt when he had left King's Landing.

He laid down on his bed and observed Brienne doing the same, just as he had every night since his arrival. In this gloomy and oppressive atmosphere, on the eve of the fight that would determine their fate, this ritual had become a necessity to him and he clung to these moments of intimacy just like a man thrown overboard clings to a rock in order not to drown. And just like every evening, they said each other good night before letting silence take hold of the room.

But on this particular night, Jaime couldn't stay silent. The shield he had placed around his heart suddenly cracked, and the need to express, at least partially, what he felt became stronger and finally overwhelmed him.

"Brienne, I… I wanted to thank you for your support. For… your trust. I don't know if I am worthy of them but… they mean the world to me."

He didn't move a bit, staring at the dark ceiling, now that the fire has started to die out. He waited, patiently, for what seemed an eternity, his heart hammering in his chest, not regretting at all what he had just said.

"I am… normally not good… with words."

Jaime's heart skipped a beat. Brienne's voice seemed choked, almost… If she was as moved as he was at that moment, could that mean that…?

"I never thanked you for saving me. So… thank you, Ser Jaime. Let's just say we are even, now."

After a short instant, he came back to his senses, to reality, for his mind had started down a road that was far too dangerous.

 _Of course, she is grateful. It is gratitude she feels, nothing more._

Feeling his heart sank after its crazy race inside his chest, Jaime smiled a disillusioned smile.

"You are welcome. I would do it again, Brienne."

It became silent between them once again and only when he heard Brienne's quiet breathing, indicating that she was sleeping, only then did Jaime turned his head to look at her. He stared for a long time at the profile of her face, so calm and innocent in her sleep, at the blond locks of her hair on the pillow…

"I would do it again, my dear Brienne…"


	14. Chapter 14

_The throne room was full of people, and Brienne made her way through the crowd, in a deafening silence. Nobody was talking, nobody was moving. Casting glances left and right, she noticed then that each and every person present was a wight, an undead creature like the one she had seen in the Dragon Pit. Her hand resting on the pommel of her sword, she kept moving forward, towards the end of the room. She suddenly heard a piercing cry, followed by another, and another. She finally stopped, the vision unfolding before her leaving her horrified. Standing near the throne, Cersei Lannister overlooked the assembly, a cold smile on her face, the green, dreadful light of wildfire dancing in her eyes. Not far from her, a humane shape was engulfed in flames, twisting and screaming bloodcurdling screams. Her long hair was ablaze, her dress was consumed by green flames, and her crown, half stag and half roses, was starting to melt, burning her beautiful face. There was nothing Brienne could do as she watched Margaery Tyrell burn before her eyes._

 _Apart from her screams, the room was completely silent. A chilling smile still on her lips, Cersei looked around her, and Brienne stood frozen on the spot when her green eyes, in which the wildfire reflected, looked directly at her. Joffrey's wedding, Cersei calling after her and talking to her… Everything came back. "But you love him", she had told her._

 _Cersei suddenly moved, walking towards the throne, and when she sat down, she changed, Daenerys Targaryen now facing the room. Her face showed no emotion, and her eyes were staring across the room, observing something that Brienne could not see. Her skin turned completely white, contrasting with the dark colours of her dress. The throne room darkened, and Brienne looked up to see the blackened remains of the ceiling, entirely burned by dragon fire, a vision which immediately reminded her of the ruins of Harrenhal._

 _And then, the undead were suddenly burning all around her and she fled, blinded by the light, almost feeling the warmth of the flames on her face. Oathkeeper swinging at her side, she ran and ran, finally finding herself standing in a terribly familiar place. Renly's tent was completely deserted. The only sign of him was his crown, more massive and imposing than Margaery's, placed on a table. Brienne approached it, and she was almost touching it when a violent gust of wind blew through the tent, and Brienne quickly turned around, unsheathing her sword to face the shadow of Stannis Baratheon. But Renly's tent had disappeared, and she was now standing on the snowy plain of Winterfell, and she thought the icy wind would freeze her to death._

 _All around her, the battle raged between the living and the dead. In the distance, she could see the shapes of several dragons fighting against each other, high, so high in the sky, above the towers of the castle. Several wights were walking towards her, and she rushed in their direction to strike them down, the valyrian steel of her sword cutting through air and bones. They all collapsed on the ground, revealing the distant shape of the man she loved, fighting for his dear life against a creature she had never seen, all blue eyes and white skin, looking like an ice god. She began to run to reach him, moving far too slowly in this white, silent inferno, where the only sound she could hear was the beating of her own heart. She rushed to them, but everything happened as fast as a lightning strike._

 _The White Walker Jaime was fighting pierced his body with its icy spear and Jaime collapsed on the ground. Screaming in despair and agony, Brienne had barely time enough to kneel in the snow, dropping her sword, to catch him in her arms. Everything got blurred, mixed and confused in her head: Renly dying in her arms, Jaime fainting in her arms in the hot baths of Harrenhal… and now Jaime lying in her arms again, in the middle of the storm, his eyes never leaving hers as life was leaving his body… Brienne pressed him harder against her, and a long, harrowing scream of pain, grief and regret escaped her throat._

 _"No, Jaime… please… I can't lose you too… I beg you, please… Jaime… Jaime…"_

Brienne awoke with a half-choked cry, her throat so tight she could scarcely breathe, the palms of her hands sweating, her heart racing. She sat up briskly in her bed, her eyes scanning the dark room as she was trying to come to her senses. A sudden noise right beside her startled her, and everything came back to her mind, awakening in her such emotions as she had never felt before, a wave threatening to overwhelm her. After drawing his last breath in her arms, leaving her sobbing and screaming in the snow, Jaime was now right beside her, invading her personal space, his nearness both calming her and making her feel completely disarmed. Yet she couldn't see him, nor even discern his figure in the complete darkness of the room.

But he had rushed to her, and she could feel his intoxicating presence, guessing that he was kneeling near her bed, bis breathing so close, so loud, his hand searching for hers and, finally founding it, caressing it slowly, pressing it in the furs of her bed, his voice reassuring and full of a tenderness that made her heart ache. "Brienne… I am right here, with you… It was just a bad dream… I am here, Brienne…"

He stopped talking but his hand was still on hers, and the feeling of his fingers on her skin, while making the terrible visions of her nightmare slowly disappear, made her heart pound almost painfully in her chest. Grateful for the obscurity that hid the tears swelling in her eyes, she finally came back completely to reality. Jaime's thumb was now tenderly stroking her knuckles, a gesture giving her goose bumps that, she hoped, he wouldn't notice. He certainly only meant to soothe her, but this tenderness brought all of her feelings to the surface, and when her dream came back to her mind once more, it was more than she could bear. But at that exact moment, she felt Jaime's fingers let go of hers, leaving her both relieved and desperate, immediately craving for his touch again.

She heard him slowly stand up and the noises she heard next made her realize he was trying to light up a candle, which took some time with only one hand. A moment later, a flickering flame was springing up to life. Dancing shadows came to life on the walls of the room, but Brienne had eyes only for him. His face bathed in golden light, the flame brought out his perfect features, his blond-silver hair and beard… This vision took her breath away, and at that moment Jaime turn to her, still holding the candle. She immediately looked away, angry at herself for her lack of self-control.

She felt Jaime coming close again and heard him put the candleholder on the table near her bed, already occupied by her basin of water. He knelt near her once more and took her hand in his again, apparently decided to keep torturing her.

"Brienne…"

She had no choice, but to turn her eyes to look at him, gently withdrawing her hand from his grasp at the same time. He suddenly seemed sad, so sad, sad and tired. But she just couldn't risk betraying her confused state, and she concealed her slightly shaking hands under the furs that covered her.

"I am sorry if I woke you up…"

"Are you all right, Brienne?"

He stared at her with a questioning look, visibly worried about her. She nodded briefly, eyes locked with his, refusing to think back to her horrible nightmare. She had to be strong, she had to be Brienne again, the woman she had always been, calm and in control of her emotions. There was no place for her feelings in these circumstances… even if she knew, deep within herself, that she would do anything to prevent her dreadful dream from happening.

"My nightmare was quite… it seemed so real. But everything's fine, I assure you."

She forced herself to smile, ever so slightly. But he didn't seem convinced and was still looking at her, the worry plain on his handsome face.

"You… You spoke in your sleep… It sounded as though you were suffering… Are you sure you are all right?"

A wave of panic took hold of her. Had he heard her mourning for him, crying his name…? Her throat dry and tightened, she escaped his gaze once more, those eyes staring at her in a way that seemed reserved just for her. It was too much for her, she had to put an end to this conversation. Unable to lock eyes with him again, she stared at the flame of the candle instead.

"I dreamt of the army of the dead, Ser Jaime… I think it's no wonder, given the situation… But everything's fine, I am fine. You can go back to sleep, I won't disturb you again."

"All right. I'll leave the candle lit, if it can help you sleep."

She closed her eyes, lowered herself on her pillow and nodded. She seemed calm and relaxed, but she was not. Her heart was still beating fast as a galloping horse when Jaime rose again to get back to his bed. Her eyes were still closed when he spoke again, the sound of his voice sending a shiver down her spine.

"Good night, Brienne. Try to sleep."

"You too, Ser Jaime."

Minutes went by. The fire in the hearth was long extinguished, and Brienne suddenly realized she was very cold now that Jaime was not next to her anymore. Snuggling in her covers and furs, she tried to get back to sleep, but she couldn't. How? Jaime had died in her dream… He had held and stroked her hand, and this simple gesture had awakened in her everything she so desperately tried to conceal… She had cried his name aloud and he had heard her…

Minutes or hours passed, she could not have said. When she judged dawn was near and the castle would wake soon, she stood up and silently dressed, before leaving the room and closing the door softly behind her.


	15. Chapter 15

A handmaid knocked at the door as Jaime was almost done getting dressed. She had come to kindle the fire in the room and, even if he would have preferred to stay alone, he nodded to her with a smile since he was beginning to shiver from the cold. She placed new logs in the hearth and soon, flames were crackling once more in the fireplace. The young girl quietly slipped away, and Jaime slowly finished attaching his hauberk before sitting down at the edge of his bed. His eyes stared at nothing in particular, and all his thoughts were focused on one thing: Brienne. He hadn't been able to sleep again after awakening to the sound of her cry. She had finally stood up, dressed and gone out of the room, and he had discreetly observed her all the while, pretending to sleep in order to stay alone for a moment and be able to think about everything that was happening between them.

Ever since he had understood that he was in love with Brienne, being continuously in her presence had driven him almost insane. He was grateful for being at her side, he was grateful for the respect she had granted him, but he wanted more, much more. So much more than what she would ever give him, and his longing for her became stronger each day that passed. Since he had arrived at Winterfell, they spent their time together. All these moments, particularly their sparring sessions in the courtyard, were near to a torture for him. He wanted to open his heart to her, to give her the love that she so deserved, to take her in his arms and to feel her warmth against his body…

She knew him better than anyone, she respected him… but for her to love him, just as much as he loved her? A few days ago still, he would never have dared to dream of it. As days passed by, and with him spending his time near her, he started to notice several signs that had almost given him hope that she felt something for him and that his presence around her made her shy and confused: her cheeks that turned a lovely shade of pink whenever he stared at her a bit longer than necessary, her eyes that quickly looked away when he noticed she was subtly gazing in his direction… But each time, he tried to reason himself. She couldn't possibly have feelings for him, the Kingslayer, after everything terrible he had done for his sister and his family, after the way he had treated and mocked her during their journey to King's Landing, after the way he had spoken to her in the Dragon Pit…

Bran Stark's words had then confused him more than he wanted to admit. "You are your swords and you belong together." But the boy's cryptic words were not what had unsettled him the most." He was sure of it now, the vision he had seen of him, fighting at Brienne's side, had been given to him by the young Stark boy, whose powers he could no longer doubt. This vision was part of his future. He had never felt closer to Brienne than at that moment, as if the bound between them had become stronger than ever, as strong as the valyrian steel of their swords… as if a veil had been lifted and nothing could restrain their feelings anymore.

The events of the night had almost made him confess his feelings to her… Jaime still felt the warmth of her skin under his fingers, the way she had lightly shivered under his caress… He still remembered the way confusion had taken hold of her face and how her big blue eyes had avoided his gaze once more… His heart suddenly made little somersaults in his chest when he remembered the anguished cry she had let out. She had cried his name, with a half-choked voice, a cry she hadn't been able to control. This cry had kindled something within him, the hope he had refused himself for weeks. If she had dreamt of him and had been so upset to see him dead or injured, wasn't this finally proof of some kind of feelings she felt for him? The more he thought about it, the clearer it became to him that she cared very much about him. He was terribly angry at himself for having been so blind for so long. He remembered the sadness he had read in her eyes when she had left King's Landing the first time, the way her chin had slightly trembled during those painful last moments in his tent near Riverrun, the intense gazes they shared each time they had had to say goodbye to each other… All those instants were etched in his memory and he couldn't stop thinking about it, over and over again.

Jaime came suddenly to his senses, quickly rubbed his face to come back to reality and stood up. He fastened Winter's End around his waist and placed his heavy cloak on his shoulders before leaving the room. Walking quickly, he took the direction of the Great Hall. He needed to find her. He would have much more preferred to join her in a more private place to finally have the conversation they had both postponed for too long. But the Great Hall was surely the place where he could find her so early in the day, and he would, no doubt, be able to convince her to follow him to a quieter room. He only hoped she wasn't with Sansa yet, since they spent a lot of time together discussing the necessary preparations for the war. He needed to talk to her right now, he couldn't wait any longer…

Dimly lit by the flames of the candles and the pale daylight that came tumbling through the windows, the Great Hall was already full of people, soldiers and members of the families sworn to the Starks, sitting before a meagre breakfast or simply settling for some alcohol, ale or wine, to get warm. Several Widlings were sitting in a corner, huddled in big furs that Jaime envied them. The Unsullied and Dothrakis were nowhere to be seen, since Daenerys' troops had settled outside the castle, in the adjoining winter town. Many heads turned to look at him when he entered and he immediately heard a few whispers and grunts of disdain and disapproval, but he just couldn't care less at this moment. He stared across the room, his heart beating fast, expecting to recognize at any moment the blond hair of Brienne and her unique figure, both imposing and discrete. But he couldn't see her anywhere. Impatience and frustration rising inside him, he left the room and took the corridor that led outside. He knew her well and he was now sure of the place he could find her. She took very seriously the mission that had been given her to train as many young people and children as possible for the upcoming battles and he knew he would find her sparring with them in the courtyard.

Just as he was getting outside, he suddenly stood face to face with Arya Stark, who was about to enter the castle.

"Lady Stark…" He addressed her with his most polite tone, nodding at the same time to show his respect. Of all the Stark children, she had been the only one to distrust him to the point of turning down his offer to help. But he had since seen her train with a sword, and he was really impressed with her skills and techniques. But the only thing she granted him was a cool gaze and she quickly disappeared at the end of the corridor. Outside, the cold was even harsher than the day before. He walked at a quick pace towards the corner of the courtyard reserved for the young Northerners that were eager to learn how to swing a sword. The clinking of the blades he could already hear from a distance was suddenly covered by the deafening sound of wings Jaime had finally got used to, but he still looked up to observe, for a moment, the red and black dragon flying over the ramparts of the castle. He suddenly smiled fondly when the thought came to his mind of Brienne's reaction when he would, one day, tell her how he had been so stupid as to charge a dragon with a small spear.

Another disappointment awaited him in the sparring yard: Brienne wasn't there either. Young Northerners, boys and girls, were training, trying to replicate the fighting techniques Brienne had taught them, in pairs of two, under the now experienced eye of Podrick. Jaime walked towards him and, seeing him approach, Podrick suddenly looked embarrassed, as though he knew very well that he was looking for Brienne and what his intentions were. He gestured for the young fighters to go on and went to him, his eyes staring at his feet, his cheeks turning red and obviously not because of the cold.

"Podrick… Do you know where Brienne is?"

Podrick looked up, a shy smile appearing on his lips, as if hearing Brienne's name without her title was for him confirmation enough of the nature of their relation and their feelings towards each other.

"I… I saw her in the Great Hall and she asked me to start the training without her. I think… I think she went to the godswood, Ser."

"Thank you, Podrick. Continue with the training, you're doing very well."

Excited and impatient, Jaime turned back and took the direction Podrick had given him with quick, long strides, never noticing the big smile that suddenly illuminated the squire's face.

The godswood was the only part of Winterfell Brienne had been able to think about to find some peace and quiet and she was really happy with that choice. She had expected to meet some people praying there, or even Bran Stark, who spent much time near the great weirwood tree, but the place was still desert so early in the day. The thick layer of immaculate snow had cracked under her feet as she had approached the majestic tree, weeping its tears of blood, while raising the fur collar of her cloak to protect her face from the icy gusts of wind blowing through the leaves and branches.

It was not the first time she had come to this part of the castle. She had needed to spend some time alone more than once, away from the fuss in the main buildings, and this place was ideal. Although she had been brought up in the faith of the Seven, she had never really felt the need to honour and pray the gods of her ancestors. But the presence of the ancient Gods of the North she could feel near this weirwood tree appeased her and, in these dark times, she often prayed in silence, begging them to grant them victory and to protect the Stark children. This place reminded her also of Lady Catelyn. She liked to imagine that she came to pray here too, asking these foreign gods to protect her family. Praying them gave her the soothing impression of honouring her memory and her oath towards her.

But, on this very morning, she couldn't think of the Stark children or of Lady Catelyn. She blamed herself, but the only person who occupied her thoughts was Jaime. She wanted to be strong and to think only of her duty. But beneath all the layers she had put around her heart to protect herself, it now refused to stay quiet. Jaime was near her every day and every hour of each day, and she had to control her emotions at all times. Wearing an armour, swinging a sword, all that was easy for her. But burying her feelings and permanently taking care of not betraying them was exhausting and almost unbearably painful. Had she just reduced all her efforts to nothing, in the space of a single night, waking up with a cry, his name on her lips?

Totally confused and upset, she breathed in deeply several times and, unable to take her mind off him, she decided to pray for him, on the eve of the fights they would have to face… together.

Long minutes passed as she stood there, eyes closed, her gloved hands resting on her chest, her lips whispering quiet prayers which, she hoped, would touch the gods.

She heard footsteps approaching, the snow cracking behind her and she turned around. Her mouth went dry and her heart missed a beat.

"Brienne… I hope I am not intruding…"

Jaime was staring at her in a way that always seemed to confuse her, just like he had looked at her during their goodbye in Harrenhal, just like he had looked at her in Riverrun… For fear of betraying herself and unable to bear the intensity of his gaze, she looked down, feeling her cheeks growing hot despite herself. Jaime got a little closer, his steps almost hesitant. She had no choice but to speak, even if a lump was starting to form in her throat.

"Ser Jaime… I was only praying, I needed it… I think we all need it at the moment."

"I didn't know you prayed to the Northern gods… But you're right, we all need to pray for all those whom we care about…"

Hearing his words, she looked up and locked eyes with him. His green eyes were never leaving hers and she could have sworn there was tenderness in his gaze. Unable to answer him, she looked away to face the weirwood tree once gain and nodded, then closed her eyes to finish her prayer. She felt him getting closer still and, a moment later, he was gently grasping her right hand. A shiver went through her and her eyes opened, fixed on the face carved in the heart tree, unable to move or speak. Jaime's hand was gently squeezing hers and she felt overwhelmed by her emotions. She was about to withdraw her hand from his once more, when he spoke again.

"Who do you pray for, Brienne? Who do you not wish to lose?"

His voice full of tenderness sent shivers through her whole body and it took a moment for her to understand what he had just asked her.

"I pray for the Stark children, I pray for the gods to give me strength to protect them… For Podrick… I pray for all humans and all those who do not deserve to die this way…"

"Is that all, Brienne…? Isn't there anyone else you wish would stay alive?"

He came a little closer, his arm gently brushing against hers. He felt her shiver once more and standing straight, still refusing to look at him. From the corner of his eye, he could see how confused she was, and he waited patiently, decided to give her the time she needed to get accustomed to the intimacy he was creating between them. His heart skipped a beat when she finally spoke.

"You, of course… I would grieve if you were to die, Ser Jaime…"

He smiled and entwined their fingers, inwardly cursing the gloves that prevented him to feel her skin against his.

"Yes, that is what I thought…"

She turned around to look at him, staring at him with these big blue eyes he loved so much. His eyes locked with hers, never leaving hers, he brought her hand to his lips and gently kissed her palm. She was still staring at him, paralyzed, her pink cheeks contrasting with the white colour of her skin, her lips and her chin slightly trembling, revealing the vulnerable side of her he wanted so much to explore. He got even closer to her, heartened by the fact that she had not pushed him off, his heart racing when he realized he had not been mistaken…

He let go of her hand and slowly put his fingers on her cheek, gently stroking it, ready to catch the tears that threatened to fall from her eyes. Her eyes were the only thing that he could see at that instant, and he decided it was time for him to make the best decision of his life. His voice full of emotions he had never felt before, he softly whispered to her: "Let me tell you who are the persons I care about…"

His first kiss was a mere brush of lips on hers. He didn't want to rush her or startle her, and he wanted to give her time to understand what was happening. He immediately fell in love with her lips. They were soft, so soft that he knew he wanted to spend the time he had left kissing them. Slightly opening his eyes, he saw that hers were already closed, a mix of fear and anticipation clearly visible on her face. He tenderly stroked her cheek while pressing his lips more firmly against hers, completely intoxicated by the sensations she made him feel, totally oblivious to what was happening around them. Finally responding to his kiss, she gently brushed his lips with hers, a deep sigh escaping him in reaction. He threw his right arm around her waist and placed his hand on the nape of her neck, slowly caressing her soft skin as their kiss became more intense. Brienne's lips were soon moving in harmony with his and their breathing became louder and more frantic as they gently explored one another. Jaime wanted to take his time and be tender with her, allowing her to familiarise herself with the movements of his lips on hers. Finally, he broke the kiss to allow them to breath and to give her time to adjust to the new reality between them. Maybe she would suddenly realize what she was doing and reject him…

He stood there for a moment, eyes closed, his forehead gently pressed against hers, their breathings mingling in the cold air. He felt Brienne slightly tremble and he pressed her more tightly against him.

"Jaime…"

Her voice was shaking and betrayed all the emotions that were going through her at that instant. She felt exactly the way he did…

 _She called me Jaime, just Jaime…_

Unable to resist the urge to kiss her again, he took her lips with his, pressing his hand on her nape to deepen the kiss. Brienne's lips were hot against his and all the feelings they had concealed for all those years transformed into an explosion of passionate kisses. Brienne's hands went up to rest on his face, and when their tongues touched and crossed for the first time, just like their swords had a lifetime ago, they both loudly moaned in each other's mouth. Oblivious to their surroundings, they lost themselves in each other, kissing desperately until their lungs burned from the lack of air.

Reluctantly breaking the kiss to catch their breath, they finally looked at each other, Jaime's hand still resting on Brienne's nape, Brienne's fingers still caressing his face.

Brienne swallowed with difficulty before trying to speak.

"Jaime, I…"

Words were obviously failing her, and Jaime gave her time, all the while smiling tenderly at her.

"Why me, Jaime? I… You could have anyone you want, all the women here would throw themselves at you, I…"

She went quiet for Jaime had captured her lips with his again, decided to make her understand that she was the only one he wanted. He kissed her softly, then pressed his forehead against hers once more and, eyes closed, he told her what he should have told her far sooner:

"I love you, Brienne of Tarth. I… I just couldn't bear the thought of losing my chance to tell you how I feel, should we all be dead soon… I am not good with words either, my kisses were supposed to be my declaration of love, but…"

He opened his eyes and smiled, in front of those beautiful blue eyes that were staring at him, full of tears that refused to fall.

"I love you. I have been in love with you for so long now, ever since… Harrenhal I think. You know… ever since I jumped in a bear pit to save you."

She smiled at him and they both started to laugh, still in each other's arms. Jaime realized he had never been so happy since… since ever really. He found it almost strange, at the brink of the possible collapse of their whole world, but he was happy and finally at peace.

"I love you too, Jaime… I have loved you for as long as you have loved me, maybe even longer…"

His smile fading, replaced by a gaze full of love and devotion, Jaime pressed the woman he truly loved against him. The weirwood tree was the sole witness of the intimate embrace they shared, uniting their fate in front of the Old Gods.

A few days later, the army of the dead was at their gates. Standing side by side, they drew Oathkeeper and Winter's End in unison, as the Night King appeared in the dark sky, riding his ice dragon.


End file.
